I used to watch a lot of horror flicks as a teen. As you do. I’m not sure why they were appealing. No doubt peer pressure and group think were major contributors. Friday the 13th, Chucky, Freddie, Gourmet Zombie Chef From Hell. I tried to stick to the classics. But I haven’t thought about that time investment in many, many years. Though the laws of horror stick with you. When a girl goes walking by herself in the woods at night, she will be wearing barely anything, a twig will crack, an owl will hoot, a zombie will appear. If the moon is full, it will be a warewolf. We all know the drill. It’s all so contrived. Or is it?
I was trying to get to bed. Dogs were fed. Kittens were kicked out. Kids were put to bed. Other house shut down duties had been completed. Shower done. Teeth brushed. 11pm. Doh! Put away the leftovers. Down the stairs. Up the stairs. 11:30pm. UH! Minty needs attention. Tosca needs water. Down the stairs – up the stairs 12:15pm. Zélie begins to cry, but comforts herself back to sleep. Crap! Forgot to close the cellar, down the stairs – kick the kittens out again. Up the stairs. 12:25. Check a little email. 12:50. At last. Bed. Shit! I forgot to shut the chickens in. Down the stairs and there I am. A girl, in a robe. The moon is full. There is a slight breeze. There’s no one around. A twig breaks as I walk towards the chicken coop with my dull flashlight. A duck quacks. Surely a zombie will appear imminently. Thankfully, the fuzzy zombie I felt tickling my ankle was only MilkShake. Our best mouser.
Who walks around in the dark late at night wearing nothing carrying a flashlight? A lady who forgot to shut her chickens in.
A final ascent up the stairs and bed.